11.30.16

If you’re nursing a crummy cold, and your kitty is missing, and you’re frightened about the future, the weather gods have provided solace for you during these final slowed down days of November.  It’s been appropriately cold, but it’s been soft and kind.  No wind, and slants of golden light now and then, and the blue light of the gloaming, in that hour before darkness envelops us.  It’s my favorite time to be outside, for a last look at the water and the warm glow inside the windows of the house.  Don’s been outside burning slash piles and chopping wood, and I’ve been bringing out holiday decorations and lighting candles in the living room each night.  We’ve sat together by the fire, drank hot Irish Jameson, and quietly read our books before going early to bed.

I’m back reading Consolations, by David Whyte, in my effort to ‘come down home to where I belong.’  Of “Solace”, he writes, “Solace is the beautiful, imaginative home we make where disappointment can go to be rehabilitated.”  These lingering November days have been that home for me.  And, tomorrow, we get December, defined as “a month of lights, snow and feasts; time to make amends and tie loose ends; finish off what you started and hope your wishes come true.”